Pancakes
by Kokorocala
Summary: Great. Another move for the mercs. When Scout gets a restless dream in the cold desert air, He starts to learn how to be more compassionate person.


Every few months, no matter if it was bitter Winter, blistering Summer, or whatever hay-fever inducing seasons in between, the Mercs were moving in and out of different facilities. Somehow, their employers always ended up deciding on a new place to defend or attack. Uprooting them by a manila envelope of money, a map that said "Go here", and an order to get there immediately, or they'd be fired.

This wasn't too hard for most of them. They had all gone their journeys when they were young, and they didn't mind a few hundred miles to here and there.

They moved as a caravan, really. Sniper would navigate the whole group of vehicles, which consisted of his camper van, Engineer's truck, and Spy's car, which he refused to share. On these long rides, some of the men not responsible or trusted to drive, slept soundly in the back of the truck, or in the passenger seats. Heavy switched with Engineer when driving the truck, Sniper and Spy able to keep awake for endless hours if they wished.

As the line of vehicles moved across the brightly striped hues of the western desert, the mercenaries in the back of the truck had started to fall asleep. Demo was done with the last drop of his drink, and decided it was enough to sleep on. Soldier, who had comfortably rested his raccoon, lieutenant bites, on his shoulders as a pillow, he fell against Demo's shoulder, neither one minding the bumps they felt on the rugged highway.

Medic, who had decided to ride shotgun with Sniper, fell asleep as well. He dreamed happy thoughts of horrid experiments, Archimedes nuzzling his cheek, and ruffling his feathers into a fuzzy ball.

Scout, who rode in the back of the truck also, shivered as the cold desert air ran past his naked arms, regretting deeply not putting on his coat. Pyro sat next to him, staring at Soldier for some reason. Typical.

As it got darker, and the sparkling desert sky moved slowly overhead, Scout got even colder.

"Sh-Shit…." He grasped his arms, and pulled himself as close together as possible. Pyro pulled out a large, warm-looking blanket from his duffle bag. Scout made quick of his hands, and ripped it from the arsonist's unsuspecting hands. The masked victim gasped, looking quite pathetic when he whimpered for the covering back.

"No way. You got layers, don't be greedy, Pyro." Scout scolded him unfairly. Pyro pouted, and it was much too loud outside the window for Engineer to hear the blatant injustice.

Scout fell asleep, the warm blanket overcoming him with a great fluffy feeling against his arms and cheek. Soon, his dreams took over the night, and was sleeping soundly.

There was woman, a beautiful woman for which the little boy had loved all his life. She sat at the small card table in the kitchen, underneath the harsh bulb that flickered, like it was blinking judgingly at the lady.

Work had been hard, and her dainty hands now smelled like forty pots of coffee, and countless amounts of bacon strips. She yawned, arriving home late day, long after suppertime.

Worried eyes of different heights peered into the kitchen from behind ripped up couches in the dark living room, paying no mind to their monster fest movie marathon. There was silence.

The little boy had gotten hungry, and couldn't stand it anymore. He could not understand his mother was tired.

"Hey Ma! Mama! Hey!" He jumped up and down on the chair she was sitting in.

"Baby, don't do that. What'd you want?" She was looking down at several papers and envelopes, a calculator and pen next to her.

"I'm hungry! I want pancakes!" He shouted, still jumping.

"Baby, I… I can't right now. Go play." She waved him away. He started to whine.

"I want chicken! I want pancakes!" He didn't stop rocking her chair.

"Stop! Stop! Just… Baby, stop." The woman let out, grasping her face in her hands in stress. "I… I can't make that stuff. Just go play, please? Mommy needs to focus on this." She said gently.

The little boy gave a high-pitched whine, "Nooooo! I want pancakes! I want Pancakes!" He shrieked. His mother's chair screeched out from under the table, and she raised a hand.

The little boy fell deathly silent, the others fully showing their heads over the couch.

The little boy started to cry and wail, "I'm hungry!" He kicked and screamed.

The woman slowly picked him up and rocked him in her arms, patting and rubbing his back. She went to the cupboard, and found a small bag of potato chips, and a few pieces of candy. She sat him down at the table, continuing her work, the little boy happily munching away at the snack.

The other boys, after helping their beloved mother to bed, went to the kitchen for scout, who had fallen asleep. They shook him violently by the shoulders.

"Scout! Scout! Wake up!" The eldest one shouted.

"I said wake up!" A smack came to Scout's face. Hot sun was sizzling on his exposed cheek, and the blanket became foil to bake him in.

Engineer had been standing over the thinly muscled boy, tilting his hardhat up on his bald head.

"Now you've had a good sleep till now, boy. It's noon. And you still gotta help. Get on up." The Texan scolded. He had hopped off the truck, picking up another two boxes of supplies and equipment.

Scout had helped, slowly, to set up the new base. Doing small, menial work. He mopped a few spots on the floor in a daze, put some dishes up sluggishly in the kitchen cupboards, and distantly loaded some pistols.

The others were hauling cargo on their shoulders like farm horses. Spy had been in the storage room along with Scout, setting up different televisions and wiring for a simple surveillance system.

"You seem even more dumbstruck than usual. Heatstroke?" He observed a frayed wire, holding it up to the light. His jacket was left on a swivel chair, a cigarette almost finished hanging off his lips, and his sleeves rolled up.

"No." Scout said, surprisingly. He wasn't usually so soft spoken, or at a loss of words.

Spy looked at him for a moment. "Did you need anything? You're… how do you say, creeping me out."

"What are we doin' for breakfast?" Scout asked finally.

"Engineer said we're going to a diner he saw in the town nearby. Some grease pot I assure you." He turned away from the boy and kept working. "Should be leaving soon."

When Engineer had halted their morning work, satisfied with their efforts, they all set out to grab a bite at the obscure little truckstop diner. It smelled like old cigarette smoke and had the chatter of a small gambling arcade in the corner of the convenience store front. The diner was small and dirty, and the floor was sticking on one's shoes.

They took different seats around the dining room and ordered their coffee, Demo feeling the regret of a night's drink all morning, thankful for the dark brew. Spy sat in the smoking section, alone of course, and picked up a gossip rag that seemed to be the only news outlet for miles. Pyro was drawing on the other side of a place mat with some provided crayons.

Scout looked at the menu, sitting across from the pyromaniac, looking up occasionally to make sure they weren't setting the table on fire.

He found the breakfast options, and looked at the huge stack of pancakes. He grumbled at the thought of them, but wasn't looking forward to the other greasy options. He reached an ultimatum.

"Hey, Pyro. Let's share some pancakes, bud." Scout reluctantly suggested. "I'm sorry I took your crap before. I was cold." He scratched his head and sat back in the cracked pleather booth.

It took Pyro a moment to respond, but he then showed the picture he drew to scout. It seemed to be both wrapped in the blanket together, with large Z's coming from it. Scout smiled and took it. Pyro nodded, and pointed to all the toppings on the menu he wanted.

He didn't mind sharing at all.


End file.
